Setting Up
by SSJL
Summary: I'm not sure if I approve of you being this involved in my dating life, Bones.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: You know whats? I started this story a long time ago, but shelved it since I was working on both Talk to Me and Scenes From a Hat. But now that Talk to Me is on hiatus until the sequel (waaahhh), maybe I shall develop this a bit. It won't be an epic like TtM, but it will be multi-chapped. Cool? Cool;-)**

**Just FYI, there will likely be a rating change for future chaps.**

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"What's wrong with her?" Temperance Brennan asked her partner impatiently. She had one hand on her hip and the other was holding out a picture of a pretty, smiling woman. She waved the picture at him exasperatedly.

"Nothing's wrong with her, as far as I can tell." Booth ran his hand through his hair, a little frustrated with this whole conversation. "I just don't understand why you are doing this to me. It's really, _really _not like you to try to set me up with one of your friends. We just don't have that kind of relationship," he tried to explain.

She looked a little confused. "What kind of relationship do we have, then?" she asked.

Alright, now he was even more uncomfortable. "I don't know, Bones. Just…not that kind."

Her voice took on a long-suffering tone. "It's not even so much for you as it is for her, Booth." She quickly explained further when she saw the suspicious look on his face. "She's great, don't worry about that. She just has had some misfortune lately in the men she has dated…they just weren't good enough for her. I just think it would be nice for her to go out with a nice guy." She gestured toward Booth.

"I'm the nice guy?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Look…she's intelligent, beautiful, and successful. I'm not trying to trick you or something."

Brennan's friend sounded and looked just like Booth's type. So why did the whole idea feel so…strange? Wrong?

"If you won't do this, just tell me now, okay? I'll stop asking." Opening her desk drawer, she put the photograph back inside, looking supremely annoyed.

He sighed. "No…that's fine. If it's _that _important to you. What's her name?"

"Bridget." She looked at him questioningly. "You'll really do this?" He nodded. A small smile touched her lips. "That's good. I really think you'll like her. I'll have her give you a call tomorrow."

"Alright." Booth put his hands in the air, as if submitting. He still didn't feel good about this.

"And," she continued, "I'll be over later tonight to help you plan your date."

"Okay. Just wait." He shook his head. "What? No. I don't need help planning a date. I know how to date. I've kind of done it before."

"Well, this is my friend. I actually care about how this goes, it just shouldn't be any old date. So I can help you plan something she'll really like."

"This is getting more bizarre by the second, Bones. I'm not sure if I approve of you being this involved in my dating life."

"Booth, we're _partners. _This is probably the most normal thing we've ever talked about or done."

Well, she had a point there. Besides, it would be interesting to see what Bones considered to be a good date. "Fine. Whatever. Although it's a little presumptuous of you to assume I'm going to be around tonight so that you can coach me on how to woo a lady. How are things going with your boyfriend, anyway? Tool, or whatever his name is?"

"Who says 'woo' anymore?" She rolled her eyes. "His name is _Troy. _And things are going fine."

"I see. And Tool won't mind that you are coming over tonight to go all charm school on my pathetic, single ass?"

She ignored his purposeful mispronunciation. "Of course not. Troy knows how important it is for me to maintain a high-quality working and personal relationship with my partner. I've told him that."

"Really?" He was touched.

"I have work to do, Booth." She sure did know how to bulldoze right over a potentially tender moment. "I'll talk to you later tonight."

Muttering his annoyed thoughts under his breath, he turned to leave.

"Booth?" He stopped and turned.

"Yes?"

"Thanks for doing this." She smiled at him, and he felt a little tug at his heart. Jeez it was nice when she smiled. No matter how infuriating she was being, that smile always disarmed him.

"Yeah, Bones. Anything for you." He meant this to be funny, but the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. If she only knew. But as quick as her smile had appeared, it was gone, and she was absorbed again in her paperwork. He sighed and left her office, wondering exactly what the hell he had gotten himself into.

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**A/N: Ya, ya, I know. What woman in her right mind would set Booth up with a **_**friend? **_**These are the characters **_**I'm **_**writing, and I **_**still **_**want to smack them. Jeesh. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: True story: I'm at my mom's right now, and she has like the last dial-up connection known to man. Seriously, it's too much of a pain to even check my **_**email **_**right now b/c it takes a hundred years to load. But, since I had some of this written already, I can update away, just for you! **

**Hopefully this chapter will explain a little more about Brennan's motivation in this whole thing. But, if you're like me, it won't make you want to slap her any less;-)**

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Life was easier for her when Booth had a girlfriend. Why? Well, it required too much thought to think about why, and it really didn't matter, anyway. Once upon a time, a pretty young lawyer had asked her "Are you two seeing each other? Because I'm kind of sensing…a sex thing." Brennan had explained that what she was perceiving was just tension—but the woman hadn't backed of until she told her that Booth had a girlfriend. Then, the lawyer understood. And Brennan was off the hook…where she liked to be.

Troy had suggested it to her, while they ate dinner together on a Thursday night. He liked Bridget. Much more than he liked Angela, although she knew he would never say it aloud. He thought Angela was a bad influence. Too involved in Brennan's life.

"You should help Bridget."

Brennan looked up from her meal, surprised. "Bridget needs help?"

"Didn't you hear her earlier?" The three of them had met up for coffee over lunch, after Troy had complained that he felt excluded from the other parts of Brennan's life. Bridget was a chemist who worked in the research department at the Jeffersonian. Brennan often relied on her for some of the most sensitive analyses she required for her own work. The woman had a clear, logical, yet almost poetic way of speaking that appealed to her.

"Bridget's perfectly capable of helping herself," she told him, still a little perplexed about what he was talking about. She assumed it had something to do with the messy breakup Bridg recently had with a man in the lab, another research scientist. This had briefly been a topic of conversation, and Bridget had lamented about being unable to find a nice, _normal _guy.

Troy spoke to her patiently. "Your people need to look outside that museum to find relationships." His face reflected a mild distaste. "It's kind of…_incestuous _in a way, the way all your colleagues only associate with one another. That's probably why Bridget is having bad luck with dating. She _works _with all of her dates. It's not normal to spend that much time with someone."

Interesting. She looked at him thoughtfully. "Do you think _my _relationships are incestuous?"

"They all were. Until you met me." He winked at her, and leaned across the table to kiss her on the cheek. She didn't find this particularly reassuring.

"What about Booth?" he asked. She nearly spit out the bite that was in her mouth.

"I don't think I have an…incestuous relationship with Booth."

"That's not what I'm talking about. I mean, for Bridget."

"Oh." She paused. "But Booth is associated with the Jeffersonian. Doesn't that defeat the purpose of finding someone outside of work?"

"He's associated with your team only, not with Bridget's. They'd have lots to talk about, without it being overkill."

Troy had a point. So why did the whole thing seem so strange? Wrong? "I'm not really comfortable with the idea of setting up my friends. That just seems like it's asking for trouble."

Troy's tone had been light, but seemed to become a little more serious. "You too, you know. You should really branch out more. There's more to life than what happens at work…it's unhealthy to devote oneself to one domain of your existence. We are lucky to have found one another. It only seems fair to help your friends broaden their horizons, as well."

She was silent for a second. Were her relationships with the people she worked with really unhealthy?

"Besides," he said, his voice lightening again, "We could double-date then. Wouldn't that be fun? That would be a nice, normal thing to do." He grinned at her, taking another bite. She forced a smile back.

Maybe he had something there. When she wasn't thinking about work, she was usually thinking about the people she worked with. It was a minor miracle that she had made the time to begin dating Troy, who she had met at a writing convention. Both going to the convention, and accepting the date, had been done at Bridget's urging. Bridg really was a good friend, and a good person. So was Booth. There really was no good reason not to introduce them. Troy's words repeated in her mind: It would be a nice, normal thing to do.

She felt suddenly desperate to prove that she wasn't as unhealthily obsessed with her work—and with her colleagues—as it appeared.

"Fine," she said. "I'll…set them up." Troy raised his eyebrows, but looked pleased. "That feels really strange to say," she admitted.

And even stranger to consider doing.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Home again! And another chapter for your reading pleasure, written in the car on the way back from PA. Hmm, people are having violent reactions to Troy. Love it;-) And love all your comments and thoughts…keep 'em coming.**

**Season premiere next week aaahhhhhh!!!**

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"Bones." He grinned fetchingly at her as she walked through the door of his apartment. "I was thinking…" He pulled her jacket from her shoulders (since when did September nights get so cold?) as he ushered her into the living room. "I'm pretty sure I have this whole date thing under control. How about we just…you know…hang out here for awhile? Have a beer. Chat about life.

Her immediate frown shot down his hopes of having this be a stress-free evening. "We hang out enough, Booth."

"We never hang out."

"Maybe I'm incorrect on the common understanding of that colloquialism. But what do you call it when we spend all that time talking in the car? And when we go to lunch together?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "That's all part of work. If it's during working hours, it's work. Hanging out is a social thing. Something you do when you _like _spending time with someone, not when you _have _to spend time with them. So why don't we ever do that?"

"Because we don't really like each other." For a moment, he thought she was serious, and his mouth fell open with how gravely he had misunderstood her perception of their relationship. But then, he saw the corners of her lips tip upwards in a smile, and he knew it was one of Bones' patented deadpan jokes.

"Are you kidding me?" He tossed his arm around her, buddy-style, as they made their way to the couch. "We _adore _each other."

She laughed lightly. "Well in that case…" Sitting, she adjusted her limbs to a comfortable position on the couch. "No, seriously, Booth. What were you planning on doing with Bridget?" She smacked him on the shoulder when he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I _mean _it."

Shrugging, he sat beside her, popping the cap off one of the beers he had retrieved earlier. "It's a first date. A first _blind _date. Dinner and a movie. That's tradition."

"That's _boring." _

He looked hurt. "Not when it's with me, it's not."

"I'm sure you are stimulating company." The emphasis on _stimulating _again made him unsure of her words' intent. "But Bridg is used to her dates not really making an effort to do anything special. It would be nice if you could break that tradition." She opened the other beer and took a swig.

Leaning back into the cushions, he regarded her inquisitively. "Okay, Dr. Drew. Why don't you tell me how I can blow your friend's mind with just one date?"

"Dr. who?"

"Sorry, Bones, I'm good. But even I can't perform time travel." He nearly burst out laughing at the mystified look on her face, but then decided better of it, to avoid a lengthy explanation. "What did you have in mind, Bones?"

Shaking off her confusion, she reached for her purse on the end table beside her. "Well, I got you something to make things a little easier." Rummaging for a second, she pulled out an envelope and handed it to him. "Here."

He took it from her, opened it, and slowly pulled out the contents. His eyes widened. "No way. Peter Frampton tickets?"

"You like Frampton?"

"Are you _kidding _me?" he asked her for the second time that night. "Frampton was my idol. I wanted to learn guitar as a kid just so I could be like him. My dad'd get so mad 'cause I'd lock myself in my room playing air guitar to Frampton ballads. '_The stars are out and shining, But all I really want to know…"_

Surprising him, she picked up the lyrics. '_Oh, won't you show me the way every day? I want you…show me the way.' _He laughed; she never failed to amaze him.

"So when are we going?" he asked her.

"Huh?" She seemed to leave a reverie. "No, they're for you and Bridget. For next weekend."

"Oh." He looked a little like the wind had been taken out of his sails. "She's into Frampton?"

"She's into classic rock, so I'm assuming. She'll have a good time. Especially with such stimulating company." She smiled at him. "And the concert ends early, so you'd have time to do something else before the night's over."

He looked at the tickets a little longingly. "I shouldn't be taking these from you, Bones. I bet they cost a lot. You should go with Too…with Troy."

"Booth, take them. Consider it a thank-you for agreeing to this. Troy and I will probably do something else this weekend, anyway—we were going to try to get away from D.C. for awhile. You know. 'Broaden our horizons.'" He was amused by the utter lack of enthusiasm in her voice for broadening her horizons. They sat in silence for a little while, sipping their beer while Booth considered.

Finally, he spoke. "So what's this all about, Bones? You pawning me off on your friends, and all." He had been wanting to ask since she had suggested this whole charade, and now just couldn't suppress his curiosity.

"It's just one of those things that normal people do. If you know two available, attractive, compatible people, you introduce them. Right?"

He ignored the question. "Since when have you been concerned about being normal?" _She _ignored _that _question, finishing her beer with a gulp and standing to go.

"Just in case you're interested…about a mile from the arena, there's a little farm that has a corn maze—opens the first day of fall. It might be a nice, fun way to relax after the concert." She picked her jacket up off the back of the couch. "I've got to go—I'll have Bridget give you a call tomorrow. And we can talk a little more before your date, so I can tell you some more about her."

"Bones, wait," he called after her as she made a beeline for his door. She paused and turned. He walked up towards her, and hesitated. "So…big rock stars aside, what would a good first date be like for you?"

She hadn't been expecting the question, so it took her a second to focus and respond. "Well…I hadn't really thought about it before. I usually end up going for the whole dinner and movie thing myself. But I guess…it wouldn't really matter so much what we did. If it was obvious that the person I was with really made an effort to know what I liked and wanted, and incorporated it into the date in some way—I'd be pleased. And if I liked the person enough to make the same effort for him…well, then I guess I'd be even more pleased." For a moment she seemed confused by her own words…then her eyes cleared and met his again. "See you tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Thanks Bones. For everything…this was helpful." She turned to leave again, but he caught her elbow. Surprised at the touch, she glanced back, eyes wide. "Maybe we could…you know…hang out again before I go out with Bridget? So I can pick your brain some more."

"I thought you didn't need my help."

Shrugging, he replied, "We can all use a little help now and then, right? That's what this whole set-up is all about."

She looked a little self-conscious. "Well then…sure…if you really think I can be helpful."

Shaking his head, a slow smile came across his face. He released her. "Tomorrow, then." She nodded, then went out the door, which he shut behind her. His hand rested on the doorknob for a minute after she left, either a little tipsy or a touch disconcerted about what, exactly, was happening here.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: A quick lunch-break chapter for you! Getting really good at this eating-and-typing thing. Thanks so so much to my lovely reviewers…always interested in what you have to say. Love ya!**

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"He seemed nice on the phone. Really charming."

Brennan chuckled at Bridget's spot-on characterization. "Charming—that's Booth." She ran her finger around the rim of her martini glass, trying to relax to the smooth notes of jazz floating through the little bar.

Bridget sat across from her with one of her trademark fruity frozen drinks. "So what else can you tell me about him? So I'm not walking into this date completely unprepared."

How could she describe Booth accurately to another person? There were just too many little details that couldn't be captured with words. "Booth is…well, Booth. He's intelligent. Stubborn. Loyal. Very much a guy's guy. A little quixotic at times, which I find particularly infuriating, but usually in the end, he keeps both feet on the ground. He's got an exceptional ability to intuit, and understand people, although I think he doesn't often turn that skill inward." She shrugged. "He's a good guy, Bridg. I wouldn't have planned this for you otherwise."

"I'd ask if he was cute, but I suppose I already know that."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

Bridget laughed. "We work in the same place, remember? When an attractive man regularly graces the gates of the Jeffersonian, people tend to talk about it."

"I see. Interesting." Briefly, she thought about how it seemed like she had never left high school.

"Brennan!" Hearing her name from across the bar, she turned, as did Bridget. She smiled. Angela. "Hey, Sweetie," her friend said, maneuvering her way towards the table they were sitting at. "Hi Bridget. Good to see you again," she greeted the other woman, who smiled and nodded.

"Have a seat, Ange. Happy hour's almost over, so you better order fast."

"Ugh. I need a lot more than an hour, anyway." She pulled up a stool and sat at the table. "What are you ladies talking about?"

"Seeley Booth," Bridget replied, knowing Angela was familiar with her friend's partner.

"Booth, huh?" Angela smiled cheekily. "You aren't complaining about him again, are you?" she asked Brennan. She turned to Bridget and lowered her voice confidentially to her. "Don't listen to anything Brennan says. She and Booth get along famously. There's no problem between the two of them that couldn't be solved in a locked bedroom with a can of whipped cream for a half-hour."

"Angela!" she exclaimed, her cheeks reddening.

"Oh, settle down Sweetie. You know me. I'm just kidding. Most of the time." She winked. Bridget looked amused; Brennan, horrified. Deciding to stop torturing her friend, Ange relented. "Okay, then. What were you really talking about?"

"The fact that she is setting me up on a date with her partner. Although I hadn't realized that there was going to be whipped cream involved," Bridget said mildly.

Angela's hands flew up to cover her own mouth. "Oh! Oh. I'm sorry." She removed her hands. "Don't mind me," she said apologetically. "I make it a point to stick my foot in my mouth a couple times a day. Just working to meet my quota."

"She was kidding," Brennan reminded Bridg pointedly. She turned back to face the whole table. "Change of subject now."

"Actually, I need to use the restroom," Angela announced. "You should probably come with me." Yanking at Brennan's arm, she nearly caused her friend to fall to the floor while she pulled her towards the washroom. "We'll be back," she called over her shoulder at Bridget, who watched their exit with interest.

"What's wrong with you," Brennan hissed at Angela after she pulled the restroom door shut behind them.

"What's wrong with me?" She looked flabbergasted. "What's wrong with _you_? You're setting Bridget up with Booth?"

"Yes," Brennan replied indignantly. "What's wrong with that?"

"Um…it's _stupid?" _

"You've tried to set _me_ up before, Ange."

"I know! That's different! You and Booth don't have that kind of relationship."

Brennan sighed frustratedly. "Why do people keep saying that? What kind of relationship do we have, then?"

"_Good freaking question, Sweetie! _I'd recommend that you figure that out before you start coercing him into playing spin-the-bottle with your friends."

Now Ange's melodramatic rant was becoming a little annoying. "As much as I appreciate your concern—whatever that concern is—all you're doing is confusing me."

Her friend gave her a suspicious look. "Who told you to do this?"

"Ange…"

"Was it Troy?"

Busted. "Troy just thought it would be nice to have another couple to go out with…" As soon as the words left her lips, she realized the faux pas.

Angela crossed her arms. "I knew it! He hates me."

Oh, God. "He doesn't _hate _you. Don't be ridiculous."

Her friend took several deep breaths, and Brennan made an effort to appreciate this attempt to control herself. She stayed silent for a moment. Ange finally looked at her steadily. Smiled, even. "Sweetie. It is just my opinion that this whole thing is…ill-informed. You just don't have it in you to be a good matchmaker. Neither does Troy, obviously."

"Well…I don't know. Maybe not. But it's all set in motion now, so there is no point in debating it. It's happening. End of story."

Angela shook her head ruefully. "I have a bad feeling about this."

She smiled at her friend, and did her best to look reassuring. "Angela. It's okay. It's just a date, it's not like I'm arranging a marriage or something. Besides, can't you just be proud of me? For taking such an interest in my friends' lives.

"It's not your friends I'm worried about." Angela stroked a strand of hair behind her ear, and sighed. "Okay," she submitted. "Let's go back out. But don't expect me to support this."

It was the first thing she had ever done that Angela hadn't supported. Somehow, this worried her.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Yup…we're getting' to the good stuff now (-rubs hands together wickedly-). Which means I get all excited and can't contain myself to lunch-break writing only. Sorry to all those people who want Troy dropped off a cliff—he's not there quite yet. But tools keep things interesting, right?;-)**

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"So tonight's the big night, huh?"

"Huh?" Brennan looked up from her laptop, absently.

"The night of the big date."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess." She looked back down. She had taken the afternoon off to write, but hadn't gotten further than the first few paragraphs before hitting a wall. Some barrier had wedged itself firmly between her and her creativity. Troy had stopped by with lunch, which was a nice gesture, but just added to her distraction.

"Are you all packed?" he asked her. They were leaving tomorrow morning to spend the weekend in Inner Harbor. Broadening their horizons.

"No, not yet. It doesn't take me long…I'll get to it this evening." She saw the dubious look on his face.

"You sure? I don't want to be rushing around in the morning."

"Yes, sir. I'll get right on that, sir." For some reason, his doubt irritated her. She was just in a bad mood today, period.

"Okay then." He stuck out his tongue at her sarcasm, then looked at her questioningly. "You doing alright, babe? You seem a little out of sorts."

She immediately felt bad about snapping at him. "Yeah…I'm sorry. I've got a little bit of a headache, and I haven't been able to be as productive today as I wanted. And that especially hurts since I won't be able to work all weekend."

"You got that right, you won't work this weekend. And it won't be a _bad _thing—promise." He bent over the couch to give her a kiss on the forehead. "Maybe you're getting sympathetic first-date jitters," he teased.

Her face was impassive. "I don't get jitters."

"I see. Well, you'll still have to give Bridg a call tonight to see how things went. Unless…she doesn't come home tonight."

He was kidding, but she felt a mild distaste rise in her stomach.

"Take a nap or something, babe. I want you fresh for this weekend."

She forced a smile at him. "You got it. Whatever's wrong with me, I'll make sure I have it solved by tomorrow."

"That's what I like to hear." He kissed her one more time before heading to the door.

She watched him leave and heard the door slam. Sighing, she looked back to her computer screen, still as empty of ideas as she had been before. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, staring at the screen, but suddenly it went black. After staring uncomprehendingly for a moment, she looked at the back of her laptop. The power cord had come loose, and now the battery had died.

"Dammit," she swore, tossing the computer a little too roughly onto her coffee table, then feeling a little silly at her reaction. What _was _wrong with her? Her temples throbbed, and she rubbed them. She felt irritated. Writer's block had got the best of her. Her computer wasn't functional. She had given up Frampton tickets. She had the sudden selfish thought that maybe she'd call Bridget tonight and tell her that _she, _Temperance Brennan,was the one behind making that first date so fabulous. _'Unless she doesn't come home tonight,' _Troy's voice reminded her. Her head pulsed especially hard right now, and she laid back onto the couch and closed her eyes. She just really needed to relax…

She thought that she had just rested briefly, but apparently she dozed off, because a loud knock at her door startled her out of a fairly deep sleep. Sitting up to fast, dizziness hit her and she groaned, bringing a hand to her still slightly-achy head.

"Bones! Open up!" shouted a disgustingly cheerful voice. Booth. What the hell was he doing here? She stumbled to her feet and opened the door. "Hey there, hooky-player," he said, breezing past her.

"Should you…_be _somewhere?" she asked him, still a little disoriented.

"Don't worry, I didn't stand up your friend. There's still an hour and a half before I'm going to pick her up. Remember, I told you I wanted to talk to you more before the date? You don't look so good, by the way. Everything okay?" He held a hand to her forehead. Peevishly, she pulled away.

"Fine, Booth. Just had a headache. And you woke me up from a nap." She finally looked at him in earnest. He looked good, wearing a tight Frampton t-shirt that emphasized his muscular arms. Bridget would be an envied woman tonight.

"Aw, I'm sorry. Let me go get you some Advil." He headed toward her medicine cabinet.

"No," she called after him. "If I need medicine, I'll get it myself." She collapsed onto the couch; he ignored her and she heard the pill bottle rustle.

"Don't be silly." Grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, he brought the pills over to her. "You sure are crabby when you aren't feeling good. You mad at me or something?"

She took the pills and the water from him. "No, I'm not mad at you." After swallowing, she looked at him apologetically. "I don't know what my issue is right now."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No," she said emphatically, and he raised his eyebrows. She tried to soften her tone. "So what did you think of Bridget from talking to her on the phone?"

He accepted her shift in topics. "She was fun to talk to. If I had been worried that she was going to be some sort of dull squint with no conversational skills, those concerns have been allayed. I am perfectly convinced she is going to be a great date." He smiled at Brennan reassuringly. She tried to smile back, but it ended up as a displeased-looking grimace. Noticing this, he frowned. "Why do I feel like I'm not saying the right thing here, Bones?"

"There's no right thing or wrong thing to say. Maybe we should just…not talk about it. Just go and enjoy your date."

Confusion was written all over his face. "I'm really getting some mixed messages here." He shook his head. "Apparently, I left work today and stepped right into the Twilight Zone."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The Twilight Zone, Bones. Rod Serling, Doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo…" Getting no sign of recognition, he closed his eyes for a moment, frustratedly. "You know, I'm going on this date as a favor to you. And you aren't seeming overly appreciative."

She scowled. "Sorry I'm not effusing all over you because you agreed to go out with a pretty girl to an amazing concert. I know it's really putting you out. I am such a demanding person for asking if you wanted to do this." As the words left her lips, she knew she was purposely picking a fight, but knowing this didn't help her understand why. "Just don't go, if it's such a big deal."

"Damn straight you are demanding!" His voice was louder now, his fists clenching in aggravation. "And confusing! One second you don't give a rat's ass about who I'm dating. The next second you are pushing your friend on me. And now you are annoyed that I'm going to go out with her. What the hell, Bones? Give me a clue. Throw me a bone here, because right now it really seems like you are messing with me."

He was arguing with her as if she had the answers to his questions, and she didn't. If he wanted a clue, he wasn't going to get it from her—she was clueless. Her headache, which had abated a bit after her nap, returned with a vengeance. Tears of frustration filled her eyes, and she turned away so he wouldn't see them. "We aren't doing this right now," she whispered determinedly, crossing her arms.

"Really? We aren't?" His voice sounded mocking behind her, and she didn't want to face him, but he grabbed her elbow and spun her around. Now, his tone was low. "Then what, exactly, are we doing? Tell me, Bones, 'cause I sure as hell don't know."

As Angela had said, _"Good freaking question, sweetie!" _And she wasn't any closer to that question's answer than she was the night Angela had chastised her about this whole thing.

She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to think. So she followed through with the only frantic impulse that shot through her overtaxed mind.

She launched herself into his arms and kissed him.

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**A/N: Oh, I **_**know, **_**I'm such a mean writer to end here, and I humbly apologize. I'm trying to keep these chappies manageably short, and myself manageably well-rested. But no worries, you shall not wait for long. The part of my brain that invents these stories pummels me regularly if I even **_**think **_**about taking a break. So stay tuned!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Told ya you wouldn't have to wait long!;-)**

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If he had been expecting it, he might have braced himself. But as it was, the force of the impact knocked him back a step or two. To give the man credit, he recovered quickly. One second, he was off-balance, his jaw a little slack in surprise. The next, he was strong again, holding _her _up, and kissing her back actively, with gusto. In some way, she hadn't been expecting this level of passion from him (just what _had _she4 been expecting? Nothing, really—expectations required thought), so when his tongue probed her mouth demandingly, it took a fraction of a second for her to understand and respond. But when she did, she did so greedily, sucking at his lips and tongue. If he had any thoughts of pulling away from her, he would have likely found it difficult with her fingers clamped tightly in his hair. Luckily, pulling away was not currently on his agenda.

He did try to speak, though. "Bones," he gasped, but couldn't get out more.

"Don't you say anything." She was caught between demanding and begging, but her lips did most of the work of shutting him up. Their feet were moving, unconsciously, and both were mildly surprised to find themselves in her bedroom. His fingers were clasping and releasing against the material of her shirt.

She pulled away from his kiss just long enough to say three words. "Just do it." His eyes widened. But when she pulled him back to her, he didn't argue.

The next hour passed in a blur, clothes flying, breathing heavy, no words spoken except the unintelligible vocalizations of two people in the throes of long-suppressed lust. They couldn't stay still, couldn't seem to stop. All there was in the world was the two of them, in this bed, at this moment. Exploding.

After that first time, he rolled to her side. "God, Bones…What…? That…Oh my God." Upon hearing his voice, she immediately rolled over and began to kiss him again, silencing him. Groaning, he didn't resist. After another few minutes of this, he had no idea what he was going to say anyway. Then, for the first time since this began, he heard her speak. It barely registered at first.

"Booth."

"Huh?" He was nuzzling the spot on her neck that he had just found a half-hour ago, the one that made her make that noise he liked.

"I said, what time is it?"

Well what the hell did that matter? He gave a careless glance at the clock on the bedstand. "Almost four, I guess." His mouth went back to work on her.

Her eyes flew open widely. "Almost four?"

"Yeah." He was anxious to get back to the task at hand, but he felt her begin to squirm. Not in a good way.

"You're supposed to pick Bridget up in 15 minutes!" Pulling herself from him, she crawled from the bed. She found his underwear and pants on the floor and she threw them at him. "You have to get dressed and go."

He sat up, dumbfounded. "What? No way, Bones." His shirt that she threw caught him on the shoulder, and he plucked it off. "Are you kidding me? I'm not going on that date now…"

"You _have _to." She pulled her own shirt over her head, covering herself. Grasping his hand, she pulled him out of bed, encouraging him to dress as well. "You can't cancel now. That would be rude." She kicked his shoes over to him. Bowled over by her frenetic behavior and the desperation in her voice, he began to slowly put on his clothes, pulling up his pants and buckling them.

"But…we just…"

"Booth." She whirled around from her frantic clothes search and looked at him wildly in the eye. "I've just been really out of sorts today and…I don't know what came over me. But now, it's time to go back to the real world."

He pulled his shirt over his head, dazed, as if in a dream. "The real world?"

"Yes," she said impatiently. She picked up his shoes and shoved them into his arms, pushing him out of the room and towards the door. "And in the real world someone is waiting for you. And you don't want to miss the concert."

"But Bones...we should talk about…"

"Booth. Please." She looked like she was going to cry, and that scared him to death. She opened the door. Reluctantly submitting, he stepped out. He looked at her with confusion…with longing. "Have a good time," she whispered. Her face was unreadable, then gone as she shut the door. He felt like a hurricane had just ripped through his life.

Behind the door, Brennan dropped her head into her hands and took a long, shuddering breath. For her, it was less like a hurricane, and more like a massive explosion. One that had left her in tiny little pieces.

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**A/N: Uh oh…we have a situation. We have the people who say smut smut smut, and those who say please not so much (not to mention those who suddenly would become too young for this story). So, a compromise: this is the PG-13 rated version. There will be another version for my smut-loving friends that will go…um…elsewhere. I'll keep you apprised of where, exactly, that will be. Cool? Cool.**

**Update: The M version can be found in the fanfiction section of the Anti-Boneyard. Smut-loving adults, eat your heart out. Under-18'ers, don't even think about it! You've got plenty of time for all that...enjoy your youth;-)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: For y'all that read before I had it posted, I updated the A/N at the end of the last chapter with where I stashed the smuttier version of Ch. 6. So you can choose your poison: fluff, or smutterfluff;-)**

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"I've got to say, that was one of the most incredible experiences I've ever had on a first date. How did you get those tickets? I could practically see the notches on his guitar pick."

Booth smiled briefly at the dark-haired woman next to him in the car. "I had a bug in my ear; told me that you liked classic rock."

"Ah, I see. Would that bug happen to be the lovely and brilliant Dr. Tempe Brennan?"

He flinched at the sound of his partner's name. He had been trying desperately tonight to block out the thought of the lovely and brilliant Dr. Tempe Brennan—he owed it to Bridget to try, her being completely innocent in this whole sordid affair. But, even when the music had been vibrating hard in his body and head and he could barely hear himself think, he could still taste her in his mouth. "Bones might have had a hand in it."

Bridget brushed her hair back. "It's so funny that you call her 'Bones.' She is so not the nickname type, but I suppose it fits her so well that she couldn't deny it anymore."

Glancing over at her, he nodded. "She wasn't always so accommodating, though." He really needed to change the subject. "So what should we do now?"

The woman at his side looked at him so long and so inquisitively that he finally had to take his eyes off of the road to make sure she was still with him. "Well…you asked that question well. There are lots of things we _could _do. We could go to a movie…go out for a drink…just about anything…" her voice trailed off.

"But you don't want to do those things?" His words came slowly, trying to understand where she was coming from, and where she was going.

"Well…you asked what we _should _do. And I should probably go home, take a bath, and listen to that c.d. you got for me. And you…well, you should probably go and figure out whatever the hell is happening between you and your partner."

It was a good thing that they had already been slowing for a traffic light, or else he probably would have wrecked from slamming on the brakes. He looked at her dumbly, and she chuckled at his expression. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"Seeley." Her head cocked sideways, and her voice took on a patient tone. "You seem like a great guy, and you are excellent company. And you look really great in a t-shirt. I really appreciate the effort you put into tonight. But for God's sakes—it would be impossible not to notice that you are completely distracted. And even _more _impossible not to notice that you smell like my friend's perfume." She shook her head. "You _had _to have known that as one of Tempe's friends, I wasn't going to be stupid."

A car beeped at him—the light was green again. Spurred into action, he looked away from her and put his foot back on the accelerator. His face was bright red. "Wow…Bridget…I…I don't think you are stupid at all. I just…damn." He was pretty sure he'd never been so embarrassed in his entire life.

"Relax, Seeley." She leaned back into her seat and sighed. "It's Murphy's law, really…all the really great guys are hot for other girls. That's just how the cookie crumbles." She glanced back at him. "So why aren't you with her right now?"

It had occurred to him to deny what she was saying, and that's exactly what he planned to do. But it seemed so incredibly pointless now—she had him pegged. "She freaked out on me."

"Hmm. It's hard for me to imagine Tempe freaking out."

"Well, you missed a classic freakout earlier. Oscar-worthy, really."

They drove silently for awhile, his mind reeling, Bridget's working methodically, trying to find the words she was looking for. Finally, she told him, "You can't let her run away next time. Can't let her hide. She needs to know the truth."

He _really _didn't want to be talking about this now. On a _date. _"I'm not sure if I have a choice in that matter. It would appear that we on decidedly…bizarre terms right now."

"There's nothing wrong between the two of you that wouldn't be solved in a locked bedroom with a can of whipped cream for a half hour. _Don't _hit the brakes."

It's a good thing she told him that last part, because that was exactly his first inclination. After a shocked second, he glanced at Bridget. "You know, I'm _really _sorry about this. You are being much nicer than…well, than _I'd _be." They pulled up to her apartment, and his eyes on her were shamed, apologetic. He was a mess.

"Hey, don't be sorry. I had fun tonight." She smiled and patted him on the thigh. "Thanks, Seeley. I hope you figure things out soon. And I hope Tempe does, too." She moved to climb out of the car, and then she paused and looked back at him. "Whatever happens, you really need to help her get away from that Troy guy. He's such…" She rolled her eyes.

"A tool?" Booth said helpfully. She grinned.

"Exactly." Winking, she slid out of the car. "I'll see you around."

He watched her until she got safely into her apartment. He put his car in reverse to leave, he realized that he had no idea where he was going to go, or what he was going to do. Finally alone, the memories poured back in. Her kiss…her skin…her taste. And then…that desperate, wild, _terrified _look in her eyes as she shooed him out the door, refusing to face him, to really _see _him. But she must have seen him before that…must have caught a glimpse of the feelings he had for her.

That must have been what scared her so damn bad.

A sudden surge of emotion went through him. Hurt, both for her, and from her rejection. Caring, and a need to protect her. But mostly anger. Anger for her so carelessly dismissing the intense, powerful thing that had just happened between them. Anger for her pushing him away when he had opened himself up to her. And, as well, anger for making him feel this much for her, against his will almost, and before he even knew what was happening to him. In that second, he hated her for being so damn lovable.

Suddenly, his tires squealed as he pealed out of the parking lot. His confusion was gone, and he knew exactly where he was going.


	8. Chapter 8

She had stayed silent and still under she heard him walk away (it had taken awhile—he must have stood there for several minutes, staring at the door. Probably wondering, as well, what the hell had just happened). And then the words, unbidden, began to leave her lips: "Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod…" Eventually, she stopped saying them, but they repeated in her head, maddeningly, unrelentingly. She sat on the couch for a long while, staring into thin air. Then, she took a shower, washing herself absently, with no real thought behind the actions. After this, she drifted into her bedroom to change. Not the smartest idea. The state of that bed would have been unmistakable to the most naïve observer. The air was still so thick with the smell of their passion that she almost choked on it, exhaling heavily to try to drive that memory out of her lungs. Quickly, she stripped the bed, carrying the armful of linens to the washer and dumping them in, almost overloading the machine. All she knew was that she wouldn't be able to sleep surrounded by that smell tonight.

Hell, who was she kidding. She wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.

What had come over her? What had possessed her to throw herself at her partner (who she had just set up on a date with _someone else_) and kiss him like he was air while she was drowning? One second, she had been completely, utterly confused. Then the next—it was like there was no other choice but to kiss him. And _that _was ridiculous, because there was _always _a choice.

God, he had tasted good. And felt good against her…

And she had sent him out the door. For Bridget. For Troy. But, let's be honest…mostly to protect herself.

And now, what should she do? She thought briefly about stuffing the whole thing neatly into a box of denial. Packing her things. Waking up early and going to Inner Harbor. Sightseeing. And, later that night, going back to the hotel room and having sex. With Troy.

Her stomach lurched at the thought, and she felt disgusted with herself. As well as one hundred percent, undeniably, completely confused. For the second time that day, she couldn't seem to hold a logical thought in her head. And for the second time, again, she had just one, strong, uncontrollable impulse. She grabbed her keys and headed for the door.

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She came home an hour later, now moving more slowly, but shaking slightly. Ascending the stairs to her apartment, she tried to calm that nervous energy with the exercise; she was unsuccessful. So she very nearly had a heart attack when she rounded the corner of her hallway and saw a man's form leaning against her door.

"Where did you go?" Booth's voice was low, and it sent a chill through her. He sounded _mad. _

"You shouldn't be here," she told him, swallowing her almost paralyzing anxiety and pushing past him to open her door. Despite her words, she made no attempt to prevent him from entering, and he followed her.

"Where have you been?" he asked again. When she turned from dropping her bag and coat on the couch, he was standing almost right on top of her, and she jumped. It was none of his business where she was.

"I went to Troy's," she answered anyway, a little defiantly, crossing her arms across her chest. Maybe she was hoping that this would stoke his anger. She felt more comfortable with his anger, much more so than with his shock and confusion of earlier. She wanted him to yell at her, tell her that she had ruined their partnership. Call her names. Any excuse to be able to fight back. But she was surprised when, instead of screaming at her, he crumbled. His shoulders slumped back; he looked defeated.

"How could you do it, Bones?" he asked, sitting down on the couch, with his head in his hands. "How could you just let me in…give me _all _of you…and then force me away?" She tried to look away from him, but he raised his head and caught her eyes, wouldn't let them go. Something about his expression made her about as sad as she ever felt in her life, and her guilt, already nearly unbearable, expanded in her chest painfully.

She heaved a sigh, then collapsed next to him on the couch, her posture a mirror of his. "I'm a mess, Booth. You _know _I'm a mess, and I'm just not capable of having or maintaining that level of intimacy…not the kind you need. You deserve to be happy. So…you should go be happy, because it certainly isn't going to be _me _that makes you that way."

Stubbornness flashed through his face again. "Don't you tell me what would or wouldn't make me happy."

"Come on, be real here. Which part of our relationship, exactly, makes you happy? The part where I express derision about your belief in God? The part where I refuse to acknowledge the power of your intuition? The part where I don't understand your pop culture references most of the time because we live in different worlds?"

He stared at her for a second, then, for the first time that evening, he laughed. "Well…sort of. Because…well…that stuff is just _so _Bones." Her head cocked, not understanding him completely, which proved his point. His smile then faded a little bit. "But also…the part where you try to understand me…_really _get inside my world and understand me…and the part where you _always _makes me think and see things in new ways…and the part where you let me hold you, and don't question it. Those things make me happy." His eyes flickered upwards toward her and down again, almost embarrassed. "For example."

She blushed faintly, and looked down as well.

"There are some things that don't make me happy, though. Like being kicked out of bed when I'm enjoying myself immensely. And the thought of you going to see that _tool _after I'm gone." His jaw clenched at the thought.

Rubbing her temples, she sighed. "He's not a…" Before the words were even out, she gave up.

"Did he touch you?"

"Booth…"

"You're right. I don't want to know."

She shook her head, and leaned back on the couch. "I broke up with him."

His eyes raised, hopefully. "Really?"

"Even I'm not _that _good at compartmentalizing. There's no way I could spend today in bed with you, and tomorrow with him. It disturbs me to think about. Besides, I don't think it was really going to last anyway." She looked up at him with a small smile. "He was starting to annoy the hell out of me."

They both chuckled briefly at this, before falling into a slightly awkward silence. "So," she said, finally breaking it, "how was your…date with Bridget?"

"She's a great girl."

"Yeah, she is." Brennan nodded.

"But there was one problem."

"Yeah?"

"She's a little too perceptive for her own damn good. Oh, and one other problem."

"Like what?"

"She's not Bones."

Brennan slowly nodded her head, still confused, but becoming a little more accepting of their little dilemma. They sat quietly for a moment, before he spoke up.

"Bones?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you set me up?"

She thought about this for a moment, for the first time _really _questioning her motives. "Well…on the surface, I suppose because Troy urged me to. Got me thinking that maybe there was something wrong with how close we were getting."

"Have I mentioned that I hate this guy?"

"Don't hate him because of that. Because when have I just went ahead and done something just because somebody told me to do it?"

"Touché." He nodded. "Why, then?"

"I don't think I was setting you up. I think, not knowing it, I was setting _us _up. Creating a…catalyst, I guess."

"A catalyst, huh?" He considered this. "You're right." She looked at him questioningly. "You _are _really messed up." A slow smile came over his face, and she hit him playfully.

"Hey. It worked, didn't it? It made _something _happen."

"It did. Do me a favor though? Next time, instead of setting us up for an explosion…how about we just create our own? _On _our own? No friends or tools allowed."

She looked hesitant. "But what about…" She trailed off.

"Bones. You're a smart woman. You've gotta just know when something is just meant to be."

A smile touched her face. "Can't set up fate, huh?"

He looked pleased. "Don't even try."

He enfolded her in his arms then, in happiness, and in relief that things were finally out in the open. And that they were now setting themselves up for a chance, rather than a fall.

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**A/N: Oh, I could have made this **_**so much **_**longer and angstier and smuttier, but I think I might have a revolt on my hands if I don't start the sequel of Talk to Me soon, and I can only do so many things at once! So I hope that you found this remotely satisfying…it was a nice little diversion for me.**

**Season premiere tomorrow. Be still my little heart.**


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